


The Power of Rome

by white_russian



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gladiator AU, Roman AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 10:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15435600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_russian/pseuds/white_russian
Summary: Root and Shaw are gladiators and honestly this fic isn't all that romantic but it IS wildly historically accurate for the most part.  Other stuff I totally made up.  So get a small history lesson and also read a short angsty one shot.





	The Power of Rome

**Author's Note:**

> It's mostly shaws pov but i threw in a little of root at the beginning. let me know if you have any history questions!

ROOT

Root's chest heaved with each labored breath. Her ribs were cracked, her forearm slashed, and her right knee felt as though it would give out. The paint on her bronze armor had long since flaked off as it boiled in the sun. She would have to request a new one soon. The crowd always loved a pretty gladiator more. The crowd screamed around her, calling for death. The man, no, a boy really, lay on the sandy floor beneath her. His legs had tangled in the net Root threw at him. His fight had been short. The boy's eyes flitted up towards the sky, his hand weakly reaching out. The crowds screamed at his weakness. Root spared a glance up at the box holding the politicians. They too called for blood. But then again, when did they not? Root brought the trident over her head, a sign of her rank as a gladiator fighting for Rome, and then speared it deep into the boy's chest. She quickly yanked it out, insuring that he died instantaneously. The crowd roared approval at the blood that spurted forth.

She straightened up and turned in a slow circle, taking in the crowd. They were on their feet, shouting their glory. Root's talents were not usually wasted on someone so young and weak, but it was the start of the games and Root always fought the first game, as she had done for the past three years. Having done her deed, Root turned towards the gate that had opened to her right. She walked with her shoulders back and her head high. She ignored the crowd and the heat and the pain blooming around her body. Her mind was back on her cell, cool and dark under the Colosseum floor. The one place where she can truly think, where she can truly listen.

Root passed under the gate and let the cool of the shade slam into her. Behind her, she heard the Emperor's voice ringing out. The first victim had fallen to the power of Rome. The games had begun.  
Shaw

Shaw dodged the first hit and easily ducked at the second. The girl in front of her fell for Shaw's fake punch and Shaw's fist easily sunk into the girl's soft stomach. No armor, no weapons, just wit and pure strength. It's what Shaw liked best. Shaw paused for a moment, tensing, before she delivered the final blow to the girl's jaw. She dropped in an instant, blood leaking from her mouth. Shaw remained still for the required time and when the girl didn't rise she turned and walked away. It was her time to eat anyway.

As always, the wine was plentiful and Shaw took full advantage of that. She drank more than she ate before she rinsed her cup and returned it to the hollowed out storage area under her bed. Shaw flexed her fingers, carefully testing each joint, as she walked back towards the training area. Before she got there a large hand pulled back at her shoulder, jolting her. For once, Shaw knew better than to put her fists up.

"Not you," Ecrus says. "Go to bed, you'll leave for Rome tomorrow. The Colosseum Games have begun and you'll be greatly rewarded as my champion if you win."

Shaw nodded, knowing that it would do no good arguing. Or believing. 'Greatly rewarded my ass', Shaw thought as she headed back to her room. Her bed was closest to the open door, letting in a cooling afternoon breeze. Despite the bright light Shaw laid down and closed her eyes, not knowing when she would be able to sleep again.

\-------------------------------

The chariot rumbled into Rome and Shaw was less than impressed. The city boiled, the streets stank, and there were crowds everywhere. She was automatically on edge. The chariot made its way along the streets without stopping and Shaw watched as they passed children playing in fountains, servants gathering goods at the market, and dogs fighting over spare food.

In the distance, the Colosseum loomed closer. Shaw supposed she really was a gladiator now, no way around it. The chariot stopped outside a large arch in the Colosseum wall and Shaw was shoved out. Another man wearing a toga far too clean for the dusty city began leading Shaw through the structure, taller than anything she had seen before. They reached the middle ring and began to descend, the air growing cooler and darker. In the distance, Shaw could hear the roar of animals, beasts that would be forced to fight in the games as well. Shaw turned down a wider hall, this one even cooler than the rest. The cells here were larger, and inside Shaw could see actual bedding. She was stopped in front of one and the door unlocked.

Shaw stepped in and was surprised to see a straw bag in the corner, the same nature as the ones she used for training before. The guard walked away before Shaw had finished looking around. And now Shaw was alone. Quiet, dark, cool. Shaw might be able to like Rome. She eyed the bedding, tired from the morning of travel. The stone bed was surprisingly comfy, at least compared to what Shaw had before. She sat down and toed off her shoes. There were cells to her right and left, but both appeared to be empty.

Wait, not quite. A figure moved in the one to her right. Slowly, as though in pain. Shaw heard a small gasp and caught a glimpse of knotted brown hair.

"Well, it looks like I finally have a neighbor."

Shaw scoffed at the comment but didn't turn away, watching as the woman stepped forward. She was obviously a gladiator but what intrigued Shaw was the amount of combat the woman appeared to have seen. Even from the small amount of skin that Shaw could see, the woman was littered in scars. And the tension in her shoulders spoke of nothing less.

The woman gave Shaw an inquiring look. "I'm Root."

Shaw crossed her arms.

"So," Root asked, her eyes lingering on Shaw's arms, "you're a slave of Rome as well."

"I choose to fight." Shaw finally spoke. She could pretend to believe that lie. For now, at least.

Root laughed, "Then why are you locked up here?"

Shaw didn't answer.

"Listen Sweetie. They feed us, they cloth us, we sleep on soft beds." Shaw raised an eyebrow at that. "But we aren't free to leave. No matter how rich the family you fight for is, a slave in gold is still a slave." Root leaned against the bars and gave an infuriating shrug.

Shaw just sighed and turned the other way on her bed. Just her luck that she got stuck next to literally the only woman in here who wanted to talk. Perhaps the woman would bore Shaw to death. That'd be a welcome relief. 

\---------------------------------------

They'd woken Shaw early and dragged her to a large room with a low ceiling, filled with various weapons and gear. In the room stood a sole woman in thick armor who pointed to one section of weapons and told Shaw to choose. Her options looked better than some of the other piles, which sported small daggers and shields. She chose a spear and a large lightweight shield of bronze, its paint long gone. 

"Practice," the woman grunted, directing Shaw towards a wooden dummy all but hacked apart.

Shaw took a few halfhearted swings at it, not wanting to give away too much. That is until the woman jabbed Shaw in the shoulder with a sharp elbow.

"Practice." She said in a harsh tone.

Shaw grumbled and shifted the spear to her other hand, rubbing her injured shoulder. If it didn't loosen up by the time Shaw was thrust into the arena there'd be hell to pay. She swung for real this time, low to catch the dummy's legs, then higher up, aiming for the neck. Finally Shaw reeled her arm back and thrust the spear forward, stabbing straight into the dummy's abdomen. A slow, bloody death. Just what the spectators would want. 

The woman nodded then walked away, leaving Shaw alone in the room. She sighed then picked up the spear and started again.

It was not long after that the woman returned, this time flanked by two men. They led Shaw out the room, allowing her to keep hold of her gear, and down a hall with the same low ceilings. Eventually the hall began to slope upward and faint drifts of noise only made by people in mass reached her. Shaw rolled out her shoulders, her hurt one only twinging faintly now. The tunnel began to grow dustier and lighter. Eventually they stopped in front of a large gate, facing the battlefield. 

"You're next," the woman said before walking away, leaving Shaw with the two men.

Shaw tightened and loosened her grip on the spear repeatedly, not happy that she had to walk into the arena blind. But she had her training, and she had her wit, and in the end; who cared what happened to her anyway. She was here to survive another day. That was all.

It didn't take long for the gate to slowly raise up, the sunlight pouring in in full intensity. The crowd roared deafeningly and Shaw had to strain to hear the announcer's voice. With a prod to the back from one of her guards, she stepped into the dusty Colosseum and let the gate slam down behind her. 

Alone on the field, Shaw scanned the crowds. She could tell the rich politicians from the poorer plebs all the way at the top. She spotted the woman cluttered into their section, and could see the telltale sharp movements of bookies as they roamed through the crowds, placing bets. On her? On her opponent? Who knew.

The crowd in its entirety was on its feet, screaming for blood, their faces already hot in the morning sun. The Emperor sat above it all, like one of the gods they all so adored. He stood and began to address the crowd.

"Today we begin the second day of our most treasured games. Yesterday, you saw our undefeated champion spill blood that foretold great games ahead, and today shall live up to the premonition. In the center we have, trained and fierce, the gladiator of House Janson!"

The crowd roared their anticipation as Shaw did a slow turn. Her house was more popular than she anticipated.

"And here to challenge her," the Emperor continued on, "is the undefeated gladiator of House Meliton!"

The Emperor sat down as the gate in front of Shaw eased open and a burly man spilled out into the sunset. He wore a shining breast plate and carried two weapons, a net and a mace attached to a long chain. Shaw knew that if he caught her she'd be dead.

The gladiator took a few steps forward then threw back his head and roared. The crowd loved it, leaping onto their seats and screaming their approval. Shaw knew who the bets had been placed against for this round. 

"Begin!" The Emperor roared before settling into his throne, his watchful eyes taking in the power of his empire.

The gladiator advanced at Shaw, who adjusted her grip on the spear to accommodate for the sweat now pooling in her palm. The sun beat hot and bright into Shaw's eyes and the sand scorched her feet through her thin sandals. Her house might have been popular, but they could have done a little better with preparing her.

Shaw grit her teeth and tasted dust in her mouth, making it feel drier than it already was. The gladiator came closer. Shaw slowly advanced as well, matching him step for step. When they were about twenty feet apart he broke into a full run. Shaw froze and the crowd screamed, anticipating an end. But for Shaw it was still the beginning. Just as the gladiator reached her she dove to the side, jabbing her spear at his legs. When she rolled back to her feet, quickly stepping out of his range, she spared a glance at the gladiators leg, now dripping bright red. The crowd screamed. She had drawn first blood.

The gladiator looked down at his leg then directed his glare at Shaw, mad as Pluto. He charged again, this time throwing out his net to the side. Anticipating this, Shaw jumped backwards and then to the left, away from his net. She thrust her spear out again but it just bounced harmlessly against the gladiator's armor. She would have to aim lower. 

Again and again the two flung themselves at each other. At one point the gladiator had Shaw's arm in his grip but she yanked it arm back so fast it left a bright red burn where his hand had rubbed the grit from the floor into her arm. 

Shaw's best bet was to attack his lower legs, where his armor was lacking and he had a harder time defending. As she dove down, aiming for his knees, the gladiator swung his mace, catching Shaw in the shoulder and pitching her forward. Blood streamed freely down her back and she felt light headed. The crowd was frantic in their approval. The battle had gone on long enough and they wanted death. Shaw spit grit out of her eyes and scrambled to her feet, her version darkening from the pain.

She willed herself not to feel it, raising her shield best she could and picking up her spear with her uninjured arm. Shaw stood still, staggering backwards, as the gladiator approached. She took a step and stumbled, just managing to stay on her feet. The gladiator grinned, this was the moment he had been waiting for.

He swung his lance, ready to deliver the final blow, when Shaw sprang into action. She leapt out of the stumble she had feigned and sliced her spear across the unprotected backs of the gladiator's heels. He dropped in an instance, screaming in pain. Shaw knew she had sliced deep enough, he likely wouldn't be able to walk away. She kicked his mace away and jammed her shield into one of his arms, pinning him to the ground.

Shaw looked up to the crowd, as she had been instructed, waiting for their approval. Many were shocked and angry, they had bet on the wrong gladiator. But still, they wanted blood. They wanted death. With final approval from the Emperor Shaw raised her spear and drove it into the gladiator's heart before yanking it out to watch the blood flow. She didn't even wait before he was fully dead to walk back towards the gate, which gratefully opened for her. 

\---------------------------------

ROOT

Root had listened to the fight with greater intensity than before. Her shoulders twitched every time the crowd roared, signaling to her that someone had landed a blow. She didn't know why she cared so much, just that she did. 

When the gate at the end of her row of cells opened Root watched with baited breath as the woman was led in. Root let out a tiny sigh of relief. At least she was alive. 

The woman sat in her cell and the guards passed her a small bowl of water and a dirtied rag. Root gritted her teeth. She knew that for a wound like that to heal properly the woman would need actual medical supplies. But the woman seemed to know what she was doing.

Root watched in fascination as the woman was able to care for her own shoulder, well enough that even Root's Goddess was quiet for once, her ever present whispers absent from Root's ear.

"So you won," Root said when the rag was finally dropped against the floor.

The woman looked at her. "Obviously."

"Where were you trained?"

"I wasn't." The woman continued. "I just know this well. They captured me, make no mistake. Drugged me. Sold me to a house. I'm a slave of Rome now." So much for sticking to her lie.

"Many people here have similar stories." Root said.

"But not you," The woman said, hearing something in Root's voice.

Root leaned back and smiled. She liked this woman even more now. "No," she said. "Not me. I was told to do this."

"I would never listen to anyone who told me to give up my citizenship."

"It's more complicated than that," Root tried to explain. "It isn't a someone, though I've decided it's a Her. I can hear Her, in my ear, my Goddess. The things she tells me to do don't always make sense at first, but that's just because I'm not smart enough to see things through like she can. But I listen, and the end result is always," Root paused to give a wistful sigh, "remarkable. The end result is always remarkable."

"So you hear voices that told you to lower your status to lesser than that of a citizen? To become a gladiator?"

"Not voices, silly. One voice. Her. And yes, I trust Her completely."

Shaw snorted. "Sounds crazy to me."

Root gave another wistful sigh. "It's beautiful. She won't tell me your name though."

"Because she isn't psychic."

"She doesn't see the future, just the present as it happens."

"Right. Well it's Shaw. If I die I'd like at least one person to know me by more than a house name."

"Shaw," Root whispered, mostly to her Goddess. Though she doubted that She didn't hear. Her Goddess hears everything.

"I'm going to sleep," Shaw said bluntly.

"Of course," Root said, snapping out of her daze. "You must be tired."

Shaw just grunted and laid down on the stone bed, pressing her face against the rough straw in order to give her shoulder some relief.

"Goodnight, Shaw." Root whispered, so quietly that Shaw's lack of response could have meant anything. "Goodnight."

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SHAW

She found the routine boring. Simplistic. Leaving her with too much time to think and not enough time to get her emotions out. Punching was good. Running was good. Fighting even, was good. Sitting in her cell with the girl who claimed to hear voices, no sorry, a Goddess, was not good.

By the fourth day Shaw was losing it.

"What did you think, Sweetie?" Root asked in her ever annoying voice. "That we would fight every day? There are too many houses for that and besides, even a city rich as Rome can't afford to put on games every day."

"Some training would be nice," Shaw grumbled. She stretched out one cramping leg. "Or some exercise." 

"We are still flight risk gladiators. They won't let us walk around for a long time. Not with our house names on the line."

"It's bullshit," Shaw said as she slammed her fist into the bars. At least her shoulder was feeling better.

Shaw sat on her bed, back ramrod straight, and closed her eyes. Maybe there was something to this Goddess thing after all. It seemed to help Root at least. Then Shaw's eyes flew open. Or maybe the woman really was losing it. So much time in the cells could do that to you.

Shaw's torture was cut short when the guard appeared to open her door.

"You have training," he said as he left her gate open and moved over to Root's. "You too. New regime."

Shaw could barely contain her excitement. She thought the corner of her mouth may have even twitched. Of course Root was on her in an instant.

"Woah look at that. I didn't know that you knew how to smile."

And it was gone. Shaw quietly followed the guard down the hall, Root talking enough for the both of them.

The training grounds were part of the better compound on the side of the Colosseum. There were better bunks, the semblance of freedom, and most importantly, actual training courtyards.

The guard led them around to the back, where darkened bunks made cool sanctuaries against the hot sun. "You've both been transferred here. Train hard."

He was gone before Shaw's eyes could adjust to them dim light.

Root clasped her hands together in excitement. "Isn't this great!"

Shaw heard a grunt come from the corner and she immediately spun around, already tense.

"It's far from great," the gruff voice said. Shaw could just make out the shape of a man lying on a rough bed.

"It's something," Shaw said quietly. She heard the man sigh. 

"It's always the crazy ones," he mumbled.

Root who had been exploring the room, turned to Shaw with an actual smile upon her face. Shaw grimaced. 

"Where do you think we will sleep?" Root asked, running her hand along an unmade bed.

The small archway that led into the room was suddenly blocked and the whole room was thrown into darkness. Shaw looked up to see a figure leaning in the doorway, backlit so that Shaw couldn't see their face.

"Not here, that's for sure." The figure said, finally stepping aside so Shaw could see her long hair and double blades crossed against her back.

The corner of Shaw's mouth twitched again. This place was definitely getting better. 

"I'm Thessa. Follow me for your bunks. Leave Megro here in his misery. It's his fault for trying to take on three bulls at once."

Shaw shuddered. That must have been one messy fight. 

Their bunk room was further down the hall but looked exactly like the one they had just left.

"Your bunk mates are all being sponsored by your same sponsor, so you'd do best not to kill or maim them, lest you find yourself in unsavory conditions." Thessa explained.

"These aren't unsavory enough?" Shaw mumbled. She swore she saw Root smile. Shaw frowned. Root was probably dwelling in the fact that they were supported by the same sponsor. Shaw hoped that didn't make her think they were kindred spirits or anything.

They chose empty bunks and Thessa gave them fresh tunics in a muddy brown color. At least they'd hide any new blood stains.. "Now I'll show you to the baths. You smell and it's just so un-Roman to not have access to the baths at least once a week. Even if we are gladiators."

Shaw rolled her eyes but Root beamed.

"Oh Thessa, I completely agree."

In the baths Shaw was met with the torture of Root ever so slowly stripping, carefully taking the time to fold her tunic before putting it in the locker boxes. Shaw's cheeks burned when Root lowered herself even slower into the hot water. And she felt goose bumps race down her arms when Root shivered in the cold baths. Needless to say, Shaw spent a little extra time in the colder pools, letting Root get dressed before Shaw made her way back into the locker room.

Once scraped clean of dirt, Shaw and Root were shown the eatery, the training grounds, and the toilets, which were far too close to the kitchens for Shaw's liking.

"We each have rotations in the kitchens, laundry, or latrine. They say it's random but I've never seen any of the top fighters do latrine duty, so I guess fight hard if you would like to avoid that."

"Who even runs this place?" Shaw asked.

"All of our sponsors pay for it, well their excessively large houses do, but Juliana oversees our training. You'd do best not to upset her."

Shaw rolled her eyes but Root nodded gravely.

"Well," Thessa said with a sigh. "It's almost dinner. Just hang out in your bunks until you hear the bell."

"We thank you for your kindness," Root said, now all smiles. "Will we be seeing you in training?"

"Likely yes. We are of the same sponsor so I will be on your side. And you'll see me at dinner."

Thessa seemed eager to go so Shaw grabbed Root's shoulder and tugged.

"Goodbye," Root called out, her annoying smile making Shaw dig her fingers into Root's shoulder.

Thessa waved and then disappeared down yet another hall. Shaw swore this whole city was one giant maze.

"Isn't this exciting!" Root exclaimed as she followed Shaw back to their bunks. "We are clean, we have new tunics, a bunk, the chance to train! And, we are together." She gave Shaw a soft smile. Shaw turned away in disgust.

"Right now, I just want to lay down on an actual bed and eat actual food."

They had entered back into the room and from the corner they heard a laugh. Someone now occupied all of the previously empty beds.

"You're delusional if you think they serve actual food here." They said.

"If it isn't shoved at me through the bars of a cell, I'll consider it actual food." Shaw insisted. Root gave her a pointed look. "For now," she added.

While Root went to fraternize with their new roommate, Shaw did her best to lay down and formulate a plan. She was here for some reason, and she wanted to be able to train hard, but if she showed she was too good then she would turn herself into a target. She would have to carefully watch the ranks and be sure that she never got too close to the top. She had heard enough stories of misplaced daggers ending up in someone's pillow to make herself a target.

She rose when the dinner bell rang, following Root and her new friend out the door.

"You should be careful who you talk to," Shaw muttered to Root as they were quickly joined by other gladiators.

Root sighed, "Oh lighten up sweetheart, not everything must be looked at as though it were a mournful tragedy. Don't you ever smile."

Shaw looked her dead in the eye. "No."

"And strangely, that is one of the things I find most endearing about you." Root said with a soft smile on her face.

Sometimes Shaw hated the way that Root made something feel like it was stirring inside of her. Some deeply buried feeling that Shaw decided she was far better off without, no matter how brightly Root smiled.

\-------------------------------------------------------

Training began after a night filled with other people's breathing. Shaw may have been used to sleeping through the shuffling and clanging sounds of the underbelly of the Colosseum, but listening to other people so goddamn close to her had been a new experience. One her body had not handled well. In short, she was exhausted.

Training began with short drills. Since Shaw had no weapon of choice, she was given the typical fighting sword to start. The training center had decided not to give Root the trident and net she so deeply desired, arming her with a sword similar to Shaw's.

They ran through individual drills and then were paired up at random, with warnings not to actual injure as they were all being represented by the same sponsor.

"I don't know which house owns me anymore," Shaw muttered angrily, having heard too many names floating around that day to actually trust what the training center said, "but they're one rich bitch."

She was pleased when her comment caused Root to huff out a laugh.

By the end of the day Shaw was tired and sore, but the kind of sore that let her know she was actually doing something with her body. While the food may have been challenged in taste, Shaw was grateful for it, and was even more grateful for an actual bed not surrounded by rusting metal bars. She slept better that night, her body already getting used to the sounds of others.

\----------------------------------

They quickly fell into a rhythm of training. After the first couple of days Shaw realized they were allowed to roam the grounds freely, so early morning runs were added to her schedule. After a week or so of training within their house, they began to meld with other sponsored groups. Suddenly their blows were allowed to leave dark bruises and shallow cuts. Shaw was surprised to find that her workouts had helped tremendously with her strength.

It had been a grueling day training with a house particularly known for being rough. Shaw was sporting a couple of slashes on her arms and at least a dozen bruises. She was pretty sure that dirt was imbedded so far into her shoulder from where she was flipped onto her back that she would never be able to scrape it off in the baths. 

She was inspecting the sword she had kept from the first day, wondering if she needed to take a trip to the rudimentary iron shop that the training grounds boasted.

"You fought well today," a voice from behind Shaw stated.

She turned to see a tall woman standing, her arms clasped behind her back and her head held in a way that Shaw swore would intimidate even the emperor surrounded by his guards.

"Thank you."

"I know you are new here, and have yet to be awarded a weapon. I believe it is time."

Shaw nodded, not trusting herself to speak without ruining what she could recognize as a golden opportunity. Few gladiators were gifted their own weapons. Even so, Shaw hesitated. She knew this would place a target on her back, the very target that she originally set out to avoid.

"Follow me." The woman turned without any other instruction, causing Shaw to send a glance towards Root before following along.

"Who are you?" Shaw asked as she kept up behind the woman's long strides.

The woman barked out a short laugh. "I am humbled that you must ask, though I suppose I have made myself scarce as of recent." She paused and turned to face Shaw, causing Shaw to stop abruptly and stumble a bit. "My name is Juliana. I run the training grounds. This way."

She was on the move again but Shaw's head was reeling. She hadn't wanted to make herself be noticeable. And having the head of the training facility take her to get weapons would certainly do just that.

"This is the weapons vault," Juliana said as she stopped outside a heavy door and began to unlock it. "Normally our gladiators must buy their weapons, but I feel as though you have earned them in a different way. You defeated the head of the House of Sarti today. That is no small feat. Your sponsor wishes to reward you."

Shaw recoiled slightly at the thought of the person who technically owned her deciding that she earned a weapon. 

"Usually," Juliana continued, "I do not allow sponsors to decide things like that on my training grounds. But for once, I happen to agree with him."

Juliana stepped aside and allowed Shaw to step in. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light and her breath caught, taking in the numerous weapons around her.

"It pleases me to say this Shaw, so take your pick."

Shaw spent a long time carefully running her hands over tridents and nets that she knew Root would adore, over long blades and short throwing daggers and sharp maces.

"I fought once," Shaw began, "with two blades. When I was very young. It is what first made them take me away to be a gladiator. I think I would like to fight that way again."

Juliana nodded and allowed the ghost of a smile to grace her lips. "I know what you desire." She set down her lantern and led Shaw to darkened corner, where two short swords lay crossed together. "These are sister swords, pairs. Not alike but they complement each other so well that it is hard to believe they came from two different, far-flung workshops." She handed them to Shaw. "And now they are yours."

Shaw carefully took them in each hand, testing their weight. 

"I must warn you," Juliana said. "You'd do best to allow me to keep these in the armory. You will get your own slot and there is always a guard present. Chose to keep them in the trunk at the foot of your bed and you may awake one night to find them pressed against your neck."

Shaw nodded. "Armory it is."

Juliana led them out of the room and locked it behind them. She then pointed Shaw in the direction of the armory.

"Thank you," Shaw said before she could go.

Juliana paused and smiled, though her face was sorrowful. "It is not something you should be thankful for. Train hard and you may just stay alive."

Shaw watched her walk away, expecting nothing less from the woman who ran a facility for people who may as well already be considered dead.

Shaw met Root in the hall after depositing her double swords in the armory. 

"Now we both have weapons of choice!" Root exclaimed gleefully. 

Shaw frowned, "What are yours?"

"My trident and net. I just have to keep them at the Colosseum as to best surprise my opponent when the time for the arena comes."

From the bite in Root's voice Shaw could tell that it was not her words. But Root's small smirk returned in the next moment as she began to tell Shaw about a training regiment she had missed, and Shaw decided to leave the comment be. 

\-----------------------------------------

Now that she had weapons, Shaw's training shifted to focus on techniques that could best help her. She was suddenly grateful for the fact that she would never fight a member of her own house, for their hints and tips helped her survive. Root by far proved her worth, helping Shaw early in the mornings on days when she could drag herself out of bed.

"You have to make sure you're using the full range of your shoulder," Root instructed as she went head to head with Shaw, her borrowed mace swinging wildly. 

"I am," Shaw said.

"Ah, but not too much," Root corrected. "You could lose control and then," she struck and Shaw's shoulder was jarred painfully, causing her to drop one of her swords.

Root spun around, swinging her mace at Shaw's ankles. Shaw jumped on instinct and Root used her armor clad wrist to knock Shaw's other sword out of her hand. Root then kicked hard at Shaw's thigh and she fell to the ground, weaponless. Root quickly dropped to her knees, one on either side of Shaw's hips, preventing her from standing up. The armor Shaw wore kept her legs from kicking too far up, taking away her chance to injure Root from behind. And with one arm pinned beneath her back and the other at the mercy of Root's mace, Shaw was trapped.

"Well," Root continued. "And then this could happen."

Shaw grumbled and tried to extract herself, but to no avail. Roots thighs were too strong. Suddenly Shaw could feel that emotion inside her again, yearning to bubble to the surface. She knew it wouldn't though. They never did. But the look of Root's face, sweaty and streaked with dust, her eyes triumphant and her smile bright, caused Shaw to almost believe she could feel the emotion. It felt, nice almost.

That didn't mean she liked it though.

With a grunt, Shaw was able to knock Root off of her and stand up. "You're advice is confusing and counter-productive."

Root laughed. "Such a big word my apprentice. Now help me up, it's the end of the week and I crave a bath."

Shaw helped Root up but she felt her palms suddenly dampen. The thought of Root in the bath, her hair damp, her skin flushed, was something else Shaw decidedly Did Not Need. She had avoided being in the bath house at the same time as Root ever since that first day. She swore that Root's constant invitations to join her spoke of something more than just mutual company. Even so, Shaw wordlessly followed Root down the dark halls, missing the time that she didn't have a dark haired, annoying, invasive companion by her side. Well, almost missing that time. Shaw sighed internally. Fuck this shit was complicated.

\---------------------------------

Another week of training passed and Shaw could feel Root growing closer to her. They had been connected before, dare she even say friends given the situation they had met in, but now it felt odd to be anywhere without Root. Shaw appreciated Root's drive to fight, her strength, and even her oddities, as she continued to converse with her Goddess on a daily basis. It was just one of the many intricacies of Root that Shaw had grown accustomed to.

Even more so, Shaw began to sense where the woman was on the training grounds. While facing her own opponent, Shaw kept an ear out for Root at all times, knowing that she could sometimes get ahead of herself in a fight.

Shaw had just delivered a final blow to her own opponent when she heard a cry of pain from across the training courtyard. In an instant she knew it was Root and gripped her own weapon tightly as she pushed people out of the way. Breaking through the circle of gladiators, Shaw found Root kneeling on the ground, her weapons discarded, both hands wrapped around her ear as it streamed blood.

Shaw immediately leveled one of her swords at Root's opponent. "What did you DO?" She roared.

"The bitch tried to side-swipe me!" The man exclaimed, already backing away. 

That was enough for Shaw. She flew into a rage, using both swords as she beat the man back again and again. She drew blood on his legs, his arms, even one shallow cut against his unprotected torso.

"You don't, aim, for faces!" Shaw exclaimed, each word accented by a swipe with her swords.

She was suddenly hit from behind and sent sprawling. She spit dirt and blood out of her mouth before she sprang back to her feet and came face to face with Juliana. To the side she could see medics tending to Root.

"What is the meaning of this?" Juliana asked, her voice quiet and seething.

"He's ruined her ear," Shaw explained, her body still tense.

"You do not know that for sure, yet you attack a member of your own house? You attack someone else's opponent? Do you think so highly of yourself?" Juliana asked, advancing on Shaw.

"Are you now the avenger of all gladiators? Are you here to fight all of our battles?" She continued.

Shaw refused to take a step back and soon they stood face to face.

"You are foolish," Juliana spat out, "to challenge another's opponent. You have brought shame onto your house." She turned to stalk away, waving her hand in annoyance at the crowd that had gathered.

"I am foolish then," Shaw declared in a loud voice, causing Juliana to pause. "Because I challenge you."

The crowd gave a collective gasp, and even Shaw couldn't believe her own words.

Juliana turned, a laugh already on her lips. "Do you really want to follow through with that?"

Shaw nodded. 

"Then you are even more foolish than I originally thought."

Before Shaw could prepare herself, Juliana had drown a short sword from beneath her tunic and slashed at Shaw. Re-gripping her swords as she leapt backwards, Shaw did her best to take in her surroundings, but she knew from that very first strike that it would not be an evenly matched fight.

Gladiators only grew old when they were exceptionally good, and Juliana was by no means young.

Again and again Shaw had to leap out of the way. She knew that it was only tiring her out, but she saw no openings that she could take. By the time Shaw finally saw a chance to strike back, she took it without realizing it was a trap. As soon as her arm got close enough, Juliana drew her sword down, drawing a deep cut. Clearly normal training rules did not apply here.

Blow after blow, Shaw was beaten down. She felt proud in the fact that she managed to get a good couple of swipes in, catching Juliana's tunic but never her skin.

"Yield!" Juliana demanded when she finally managed a blow that sent Shaw to her knee and one of her swords flying.

Shaw stood shakily but determined. She switched her remaining sword to her better hand and shook her head. "No."

It didn't take many blows more to find Shaw weaponless and bleeding, both swords gone, her forearms a bloody mess.

Juliana stood deliberately over Shaw, her sword poised over Shaw's stomach. It would have been a painful and slow death indeed.

"Yield." Juliana demanded again, calmer this time.

Shaw tried to swallow but her mouth felt too swollen, too sticky with blood. "I yield." She managed.

Juliana stepped away and offered Shaw a hand, but Shaw stood on her own.

"Go to the infirmary," Juliana said, "but you will still report for your evening chores. It's your turn for latrine duty, I believe."

Shaw hated the fact that she was right.

"Tell your girl how valiantly you defended her honor, I'm sure she will find it as amusing as I did. And be sure that you never dare to challenge me again."

Once she was gone, having swept out of the courtyard with her head high, it took all that Shaw had not to collapse on the ground. Someone came up behind her and offered her a hand to the armory, but Shaw shook her off. She walked on uneven steps to collect first her right sword, and then her left. Their weight made her arms scream but she refused to relinquish them, leaving the courtyard in a tense silence.

The darkened hallway was a relief as Shaw finally let herself gasp in pain. Because damn, did it hurt. By the time she finally shuffled into the armory she was ready to pass out. Her only relief was seeing that Root was alive and well on a cot, the only damage appearing to be the bandage that wrapped around her head.

The nurses rushed towards Shaw, grumbling about how two injured gladiators in one day made them want to get a new vocation. Shaw wished she had that liberty. Her swords were pulled from her hands easily, their handles slick with blood.

Shaw faded in and out of consciousness for a while, and when she awoke it was to Root's smiling face on the cot next to hers.

"You had me worried there for a while, Sweetheart." Root said playfully, but Shaw could see just much she had worried her.

"I'm fine. Probably earned myself a bit of a tougher life here though."

"You challenged Juliana," Root said with a heavy sigh.

Shaw shrugged, the pain was a minor inconvenience more than anything. "Are you okay?"

Root shrugged but her expression gave her away.

"Root," Shaw said quietly, her face softening for once.

"I can't hear," Root explained, motioning under her bandaged ear. Tears sprang to her eyes. "And they don't think it's the bandages either. The sword cut through bone and it took my hearing."

Shaw said nothing but offered Root her hand. It was the first time they had really touched each other without the excuse of bandaging a wound or fighting a battle. Although, Shaw figured that she was bandaging a wound of sorts. 

"Let's see what the morning will bring. I, on the other hand, have to go back. I'm on latrine duty tonight and I have a feeling Juliana will be checking in to make sure I'm there."

Root just nodded, wiping away the her stray tear.

"Do you want me to come back later?" Shaw asked, then immediately cursed her moment of weakness.

"Yes," Root answered softly. "Please do."

Shaw nodded and then left, doing her best to ignore the pain that had somehow eased its way onto her conscious. She deposited her swords in the armory, vowing to return soon to clean them, then headed straight for the latrines. The sooner she could get her job done, the sooner she could head back to Root. It was a strange feeling on Shaw; it had been a long while since she last put effort into someone else's well being. She supposed that meant she cared. She shuddered at the thought.

By the time she finished cleaning and had rewashed her numerous cuts and bruises it was well into the night. She made her way back to the infirmary by shadowed torchlight, hoping that Root was in a better condition than she left her in. She could hope, but the sight that greeted Shaw was not one that she could have imagined in a while.

Root was still sitting on her bed, now alone in the darkened room, with a look of utter adoration on her face.

"Have you finally cracked?" Shaw asked as she cautiously made her way into the room.

Root seemed to jump at her presence, but her eyes never dimmed. 

"Oh Sweetie, it's just the most wonderful thing! I can hear Her!"

 

"Out of your good ear?" Shaw asked.

Root laughed, "No. Out of my bad one." She giggled again. "I can hear Her!" 

Root's eyes swung back up to the ceiling and she raised her arms a bit.

Shaw was slightly concerned, which was saying a lot for her. "What exactly do you hear?"

"My Goddess," Root breathed out. "Before it was always emotions that She portrayed to me, faint feelings of when to duck or slash or run. But now I can actually hear Her." Root clasped her hands to her bandaged ear and sighed wistfully. "She is so beautiful."

Shaw decided she didn't like the feeling of concern. "Let's get you some water," Shaw said carefully.

"No!" Root exclaimed, "Come sit. She tells me that our chance is coming."

Shaw frowned and stepped closer to Root's cot, but didn't dare sit. "Our chance for what?"

"Our chance for escape!"

Shaw looked at her doubtfully. 

"There will be a big event. Something even bigger than expected. And we will flee." Root rubbed her ear some and then smiled normally. Shaw sighed. Finally.

"Where would you like to go, Sweetie?" Root asked, looking up at Shaw with eyes Shaw had seen too many times, staring longingly at her through their shared cell wall when Root thought Shaw wasn't looking.

Shaw sighed. "If your Goddess is right, I'll go anywhere."

Root laughed quietly. "Careful what you promise. Go sleep now, I'm all better."

"Your ear is still bandaged."

"I know you don't understand Sweetie, but She will protect me. And if She fails, I know you'll always be at my side."

Shaw frowned. She wasn't comfortable in being responsible for another human. But Root was Root, and Shaw wasn't too sure how to handle her in this state.

"Goodnight, then. I am glad you say you are feeling better."

"Goodnight Sweetie, I'll see you in the morning. Make sure to get good sleep. Can't have your beautiful face scarring."

Shaw gently touched her cheek, which was sporting a pretty nasty brush burn. She shrugged. A scar would be cool.

Shaw carefully made her way through the halls, now lit only by starlight, and to her assigned bunk. She was hoping to ease silently into bed but her bunk mates weren't having it.

"Pretty fucking ballsy of you," Thiope said with a laugh.

Shaw shrugged, knowing good and well that he probably couldn't see it in the dark.

"You've made yourself a target for sure," a girl said from the corner. Shaw never bothered learning her name.

"Nah," Thiope argued. "She's made herself a warrior."

"Whatever I've made myself," Shaw said abruptly. "I'm going to sleep now."

She stripped of her tunic and climbed into her cot, Thiope's brash laughter drowning out the rest of the comments.

\---------------------------------------------

The next morning Root rejoined them at breakfast. Her presence was certainly more welcome than Shaw's, but Shaw didn't mind. She expected it even. The woman was a charmer.

They were milling about in the few minutes before the gong would alert them to move to the training halls when one of the master trainers cleared her throat at the front of the room. Once the noise died down she spoke.

"It's my pleasure to announce that your hard training will finally come to something. In four days time a gracious donor will be holding games in honor of his new position in the senate."

Her words were immediately met with excited whispering.

"Silence!" She demanded, waiting for the crowd to obey. "It will be a solid triathlon, with individual fights, the venationes, and finally, a sea battle in which the survivors will be granted roles."

"Which battle are we re-enacting?" Someone shouted from the crowd.

The head trainer frowned. "You are not important enough to know, gladiator, but whatever it is I'm sure you won't be around to fight in it. Regardless, you will all be sent back to the Colosseum at the end of the day after tomorrow in preparation. I would spend your last two days training hard. Very hard." She gave them all one last sharp look before turning and heading back into the corridor.

As soon as she was gone the entire eatery erupted into madness. Shaw heard a young gladiator worryingly ask what the venationes were. Shaw snorted. That gladiator wouldn't last if she were so fresh that she hadn't even heard of the famous animal fights.

"I told you!" Root exclaimed, gripping Shaw's injured shoulder a little too hard for her liking. "Well," Root amended, "not me exactly, but She told me and I relayed the message to you."

Shaw raised an eyebrow.

"Our opportunity," Root exclaimed. "Our big event! It has to be these games, it just has to be."

Shaw sighed and thought wistfully back to her swords in the armory, still coated in her blood. She hoped she would get to take them with her. "I guess all we can do is train hard enough to survive the games then."

\-----------------------------------------

The days had flown by in a flurry of training. Injuries were rampant as the gladiators got harsher with each other but also messier in their technique, drawn in by a deep desire to be the best. Shaw had let Root hold tight to her tunic when they were rounded up to be sent back to the Colosseum, knowing full and well that if Root had not been holding onto her, she would have been holding onto Root.

They were placed in the same cell for once, something about saving space. Root's weapons of choice had never left the Colosseum, but Shaw's twin swords had been taken from her the second they had arrived. She silently mourned their loss. To make matters worse, Root's sponsor had gifted her a new set of armor. Well, 'new' may be a stretch, but they were new to Root and that was apparently all that mattered.

Shaw sighed, leaning her head against the bars that readily rusted in the high humidity. Leave it to the Romans to build the main part of the empire on a fucking swampland.

"We will never be true citizens, you know," Shaw said without lifting her head. "No matter how much we preen and shine. No matter how many matches you win with a smile painted across your face. They will always see us as the lesser. It's painted in the taverns, on the streets. The scenes of our deaths adorn their home."

Root paused and looked up. She set down her rag and carefully placed her armor in the corner of the cell. Shaw head recently learning it was a privilege to keep your armor with you. A privilege she now wanted since Root had it.

"I do not shine my armor for them," Root said. "I do it for Her."

"Your Goddess." Shaw deadpanned.

The small smile stayed upon Root's face, making her look young and soft--a feat Shaw thought might be impossible after the violence that Root was forced to partake in.

"Yes my Goddess. She is so much more, though. She wants to protect us."

"I don't need protection." 

"Not now you don't," Root said in agreement. "And maybe you never will. But she thinks you will, and that is enough for me." 

"Belief is enough?" Shaw asked, raising an eyebrow.

Root laughed softly. "Oh Sweetie, belief is everything."

"And you believe in this plan of yours? Of Hers?"

Root nodded certainly. "The games will be our chance." She lowered her voice drastically. "Our chance of escape. My Goddess says there will be much commotion. We will get away freely."

"I thought you said She could only see the present," Shaw countered, knowing better than to believe something so obviously too good to be true.

"Mostly, but this is too big. This is an occurrence that can already be seen in present circumstances. I believe."

Shaw sighed. "I'll believe it when I see it."

\----------------------------------------------

Shaw focused on the press of Root's shoulder against her. On the gentle touch of their hips. On the way their legs were connected from thigh to ankle. Shaw cursed at the fact that this was as close as they could get. She focused on Root's even breaths. Always so calm. She closed her eyes and ignored the footsteps that were coming closer down the hall to take them away. To make them fight.

"One last battle, Sweetheart." Root reminded her in a hushed whisper. "And then we can win. We can buy our freedom. We can have our own place, wherever you want."

"You want the water. High on a cliff." Shaw whispered back.

Root smiled softly. "That I do."

"I can give you that." 

"My secret softie," Root whispered.

Shaw grunted.

The footsteps were much closer now. They both began pulling apart, sliding away to their own sides of the cell.

Root was pulled out first and Shaw watched as she walked proudly out, her armor gleaming from all the hours she spent shining it. In the gladiatorial game, winning the favor of the crowd always helped. Root's head was high and she flashed the guard her signature smirk. Shaw thought she had never looked more beautiful.

Shaw stood next, finishing the last buckles on her own armor. She hadn't shined it as much, but the crowd didn't know her as the sleek and beautiful warrior that Root painted herself to be. No. The crowd knew Shaw as rough. Sharp. Brutal. So that's how she presented herself. She had also just been handed the armor an hour ago with no opportunity to work on it, but regardless. She chose to see it the first way.

The games were no jokes. Sponsoring a game brought glory and fortune, just as fighting in them could. It just couldn't bring you full citizenship, Shaw thought bitterly. Once a gladiator, the dark shadow of having fought in the games would always follow you around.

Shaw struggled to keep from coughing as she followed Root down the corridor, guards surrounding them. The many feet that had marched down the hall had kicked up the dust, and it didn't help that dust also fell through cracks in the ceiling. The games always filled the Colosseum's cells up. And that didn't fare well with Shaw's already dry throat.

They were soon joined by other gladiators, all decked out in their armor, all unarmed. Individual battles were up first, so Shaw went to stand next to Root and the others from their training house. They sat, some in silence, some grunting from their stretches or practices, and others crying. Shaw knew the last group would never survive to the venationes. 

Root's name was called first and Shaw gave her a long look. Root just smiled knowingly.

"She will protect me, She always does."

As Root walked away Shaw had to admit, the girl did seem to know every blow before it was landed, every thrust and swipe of the blade, every lunge of her opponent. 

Shaw listened intently to the ringing of iron on iron, only one floor above her. Here, so close to the surface, the ceiling was watertight. She could see nothing and no amount of dust escaped. The battle seemed to go on forever, and without knowing the crowd, she couldn't tell who was in favor. Root's sponsor was well received, as was Root. Shaw dared to pray that it was her they were cheering for.

When it was over Shaw tried not to lament on the fact that Root did not return. None of the other winners, or losers, had. It took far too long, second to last, for Shaw to be called. Usually that meant she was highly ranked, which she liked. But today's fights were to the death. And being called last meant her opponent would be highly ranked as well. 

Once upon a time that would have excited her, but today it made her clench her teeth. She was not going to die today. Not when she finally felt she had something, someone, to live for.

There were no dramatic gates to step through this time, not this early in the day. It was nearing noon and the sun was already making the sand shimmer with heat. With the sun overhead, Shaw lost advantage of seeing her opponent's shadow. Of course, that meant they couldn't see hers either.

She gripped the weapons that had been handed to her, the two curved iron swords that had become her own. Looking down, she scratched the last piece of paint off her armor. Now it was a solid, dull bronze. She liked it best like that. 

She didn't recognize her opponent from the Colosseum training grounds, nor from her time in the cells beneath their feet. But that wasn't unusual. With such big games there was no doubt that new gladiators had arrived today.

Her opponent struck first and Shaw knew the fight would be a long one. She side stepped again and again, hoping to tire her opponent out. Beneath the hulking armor and heavy helmet, she had no clue who she was fighting. The crowd's cheers ground on Shaw's nerves. Another slave to Rome would die today and all they could do was cheer. She hoped Root's Goddess was right about this 'big event'. Shaw couldn't stomach this much longer.

Seeing her opening, Shaw darted forward and drew first blood. Now the crowd may be in her favor but her opponent was even more ferocious. Again and again Shaw felt small cuts open on her unprotected arms, despite doing her best to fend the blows off with her double swords. In a stroke of luck Shaw threw one sword, glad they were small enough to do so. Her opponent turned their head to Shaw, raising their arms to deliver a blow. But Shaw's sword was faster, piercing them in the side where the two armor plates tied together. It would be a slow death now.

Shaw looked down at the blood slowly oozing into the sand. She could hear the screams of excitement from the crowd, mixed with some of frustration. They must have bet on the wrong gladiator. Yet Shaw was quiet. Calm. The fans disgusted her more than anything. She sighed, bringing up her remaining sword and using the point to nudge the tip of her opponent's helmet up. They did nothing, chest heaving unevenly. Shaw quickly drove her dagger into their throat. Their body twitched a couple of times then was still. At least Shaw still knew how to mercy kill. 

Shaw turned and saw the guards stepping aside from the open gate. Her invitation back into the cells. She spared her opponent one last glance at her opponent before raising her arms to the crowd. She would need their support later on. Crowd favorites were always placed on the winning side of the sea battle re-enactment.

She made her way over the hot sand and back into the shade, where her swords were immediately taken from her. Shaw just hoped they would clean them.

Overheated and exhausted, Shaw barely noticed her relief at Root's presence in their shared cell. Even better: she seemed largely unscathed.

"Alive," Shaw muttered as she slumped down against the cool metal bars.

Root let out a small laugh. "Yes I am alive. Sleep now, it'll be time to fight soon enough."

\--------------------

The venationes were held after a noon meal, in the hottest part of the day. Shaw cursed the sun, not for the first time. As she stood in the same crowded room with the other gladiators, she frowned at the twinge in her shoulder. Her injuries from Juliana had healed for sure, but nothing that bad heals fully in four days. Earlier in the day her adrenaline had kept her going, but now she ached all over.

"You've got this," Root promised as she lay a hand on Shaw's shoulder. "Be quick, be smart. I'll be waiting for you on the other side." 

"Fight your best," Shaw murmured. She knew Root didn't really need the good luck.

Root grinned, "I always do." She lowered her voice and leaned closer to Shaw. "Especially when you're involved." 

Shaw cleared her throat and gave Root a pointed glare. That was so not what either of them needed right now.

Predictably, it took a while for the two of them to be called. The ones who were deemed most likely to die went first. Shaw thought it was used as a scare tactic, for the later gladiators to walk out into an arena already stained with fresh blood. 

Root and Shaw sat, deciding to conserve their strength. Going later in the day also meant facing a more ferocious animal. Root leaned her head into Shaw's shoulder and Shaw did her best to ignore the way it stirred long forgotten feelings. Feelings that she now had become familiar too.

Shaw's name was called first and she allowed herself to relish in the soft hand squeeze that Root gave her.

"Win," Root whispered right before Shaw stood. "Win for us."

Shaw nodded and stood, collecting her swords at the door and sparing one last glance back at Root. It would be her first fight with a beast, and Shaw was not looking forward to killing the poor thing. She knew Root wouldn't be either.

Shaw walked into the empty arena. The sand coating the floor was a mess. Blood, ranging from a drying dull brown color to an oozing fresh red, mixed in with the sand. Parts of the wooden floor were exposed, where the sand had been violently carved away. In other areas, big mounds had been erected. Shaw hoped she could use some of those to her advantage.

She readjusted her grip on her swords, her hands already sweating under all her armor and the hot sun. From the stands, Shaw heard a low call on a horn. She cursed, the fight was beginning. On the other side of the arena a gate slowly opened. Once Shaw heard the clang that signaled the gate was fully up she dropped into a low crouch. She wanted to be prepared in case it was something fast. Generally the beasts weren't though. They were slow, big, but deadly.

Shaw heard a low roar and a rhino came lumbering out of the darkness. Shaw took a sharp breath. She had seen rhinos, many years ago as a child. They had been soft and peaceful. It pained her to have to injure one now.

The rhino had clearly already been provoked. His hide was raked with scars and even some fresher wounds. His black eyes gleamed in the harsh light as he pawed against the sand before charging, head low.

Shaw darted out of the way. With his short legs, she could make good use of the pits and rises in the sand. She ran over to where a large mass of sand had been created, part of it already hardened by the dried blood. She baited the rhino over and waited as it snorted and then charged. At the last second, Shaw leapt off the side of the sand hill, aiming for his neck with both swords.

She managed to nick him, but he had turned his head at the last second and caught Shaw in the back. His horn tore at her armor and gouged into her skin. Shaw dropped to the ground and quickly rolled away, letting out a scream of pain and rage.

Fuck this life she had been forced into. Fuck Rome for all the shit it had given her. She turned to the side, catching the rhino's eye. Her blade had opened part of his neck, sending red blood down his front. Now it dripped onto the sand. Shaw sighed. And fuck whichever poor bastard managed to capture this beast.

She dove back into the fight, doing her best to end it as quickly as possible. Unfortunately for her, the rhino had quite the sense of self-preservation. Unfortunately for the Rhino, Shaw had more.

The crowd screamed louder and louder as Shaw attempted to goad the rhino back to her. She suffered more bruises from falling or throwing herself out of his path than anything the actual rhino inflicted on her. But he did do a pretty good job of tiring Shaw out. 

She managed to get a few more good slashes on him, two on his legs and another on his neck. His blood began to flow freely and Shaw thought that she might understand what heart ache felt like. His eyes were no longer mad, they were frightened. They were hurt.

"We're both being fucked by the same system," Shaw huffed before diving back in.

After a particularly nasty strike to the back of his hind leg, the rhino began to sink to the ground, kneeling first, then laying down. Blood pooled around him, soaking Shaw's feet in her sandals. She made the death quick, despite the screams of the crowd. As she watched the light fade from his eyes she sent a prayer to Root's Goddess that She was right, and that they were going to escape this hellhole. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

The sea battle would be held the next morning, as they had to prepare the Colosseum and fill it with water. Root had also arrived back alive, though well scratched from her fight with a bear. She and Shaw had taken turns wiping each other's backs clean in their cell, and now sat on the stone bed, both exhausted but neither willing to press their injured backs against the hard sleeping mat.

"It's so unfair," Root whispered into the dark.

"The fights?" Shaw asked.

"The animals. They never deserved this."

"Neither did we."

Root sighed, "Well, we are animals aren't we. And animals just want to stay alive."

She sighed again and went to lay down the best she could. 

"Your Goddess," Shaw said after a moment. "Has She said anything more?"

"No," Root said quietly. "But I have a feeling it's tomorrow. I really hope this is the last time we have to see this cell. I'm ready to live amongst the sun again."

Shaw closed her eyes and let out a slow breath, letting her hand rest gently on the uninjured skin between Root's shoulder blades. "So am I."

\-----------------------------------------

The next morning they were given the customary grains and then escorted, armorless and weaponless, into the training room. Shaw stayed close to Root as they were divided by category into the winning and losing sides. Shaw was glad when they were directed toward the designated 'Roman soldiers' side but even so, people would die no matter which side they were on. After being told generally what would happen, they were give legion-styled armor and weapons and then directed to the southern end of the Colosseum. As they walked along the darkened corridor, Shaw could hear the wood groaning from holding up the weight of the water. Still, no water leaked through.

They were taken to a higher level than the normal gates in order to board their ships, their opponents doing the same preparations on the other side. Root pulled Shaw close to her, looping a finger through one of the straps of her armor. Staying together had helped them out so far, so Shaw allowed it.

Three gangplanks led from the balcony they were standing on to three miniature war triremes that bobbed in the shallow water. The already loud crowd began to scream when the gladiators came into view, carefully boarding their assigned vessels. Root and Shaw wound up on the biggest one.

They stood, waiting. Shaw gripped her weapon tightly. With the sound of a canon the gang planks were pulled away and the ships lurched forward. The battle had begun.

Sticking to the general way the battle went, the Roman side attacked first, the gladiators screaming as they fired at the 'enemy' ships. Shaw did her best to fight enough to not be penalized, but not enough that she was in the thick of things. Root appeared to be following her lead readily enough.

The air was filled with the roar of the crowd and the yells of the gladiators. Shaw could smell the sweat, the salt from the water, and the sharp tang of blood. She gritted her teeth as she swung her sword around, catching an enemy gladiator in the stomach. With a strong kick she sent him tumbling back into the water. 

"Behind you!" Root yelled, busy with her own opponent. 

Shaw turned suddenly, ducking to the ground. Her attacker managed to swing their sword, catching Shaw sharply across the forearm. Shaw fell fully to the ground and cried out, trying to kick her opponent's weapon away, but they just slashed again, this time at Shaw's legs.

The roaring in Shaw's ears got louder and she fell hard onto her elbow, one sword clattering to the ground. When her ears stopped ringing she looked up, clutching her bloody arm while Root made quick work of the gladiator who had slashed her. Just as Root was reaching down to help Shaw up they heard a horrifying crack and the water began to churn. Shaw looked up and all around she could see the seats of the Colosseum appearing to bounce and roll.

"Earthquake!" A gladiator yelled.

They dropped their weapons and crouched low to the ground. Root wrapped a protective arm around Shaw's shoulders and pulled her in closer. Water splashed onto the desk, soaking them. With a loud bang Shaw began to see cracks form in the bleachers, aided by the earthquake and the stress that the tons of water caused on the support beams.

"This is it!" Root yelled, clutching tight to Shaw.

Shaw didn't dare believe it.

Before the rumbling had even stopped Root had grabbed Shaw's arm and was dragging her along the length of the ship. They got to where it had rammed into the low wall separating the arena from the bleachers. The guards had long ago abandoning their posts so they were able to easily climb over the wall. Root went first and reached back to help Shaw, who was still clutching her injured arm close to her chest.

They shed their armor as they joined in with the crowd, many of whom had begun to flee now that the tremors had died down. Shaw risked a glance behind her and saw that part of the Colosseum had collapsed. People were struggling to free themselves from the rubble. She blindly followed after Root, her wet sandals slapping against the concrete.

Out on the street the chaos was worse, but Root was already in motion.

"Hurry!" Root yelled over her shoulder. "We have to use the confusion to get to the docks."

They leapt over fallen people and broken shards of pottery. Shaw knew that their tunics, not togas, and bloodied bodies would give them away, but with so many others injured it didn't matter much. No one paid them any mind. As they ran through the center of Rome, Shaw could see that the destruction had not been isolated at the Colosseum. All around temples and homes had collapsed.

Soon, Shaw could smell rotting fish that signified the docks. Root slowed to a stop once the dirt beneath their feet turned to wood. The docks were also in a state of confusion. The tremors had caused many of the larger boats to smash against each other. Suddenly Root darted to the side, pulling Shaw sharply with her.

"She said go this way," Root called behind her.

Shaw gritted her teeth again. She would listen to Root's Goddess, if only for now. After all, they might just get their freedom today.

Root clambered into a tiny boat tied to the dock and began yanking the knot out. Shaw did her best to fall in beside her. Her whole arm was turning purple and the cuts on her thigh were bleeding freely. Shaw began to rip the skirt of her tunic to create bandages while Root pushed them away from the dock, grabbing two paddles from the bottom of the boat.

"How bad is it?" Root managed to ask as she paddled furiously in the busy water.

Shaw tried to hide her wince of pain. "I'll live."

They moved down river, the easiest way to go. With all the confusion, Root was able to get them by unnoticed. Behind them Shaw could still hear the shouts and panic from the earthquake. Still, she managed a smile.

"We did it," Shaw said quietly, looking up at Root.

Root slowed her rowing but didn't dare stop as she smiled softly back. "I guess we did. Do you believe in Her now?"

Shaw nodded. "I think I always did though, to be honest. I believed in you. And that was enough."

As the Colosseum's damaged side faded from sight Shaw knew that it would be rebuilt, but she didn't intend to stick around long enough to see it.

"This is it Sweetie," Root said as the clustered buildings began to fade into the marshy lands outside the city walls. "The whole of Rome is ours."

Shaw thought back to the maps of her youth, of the distance the Roman empire had taken up so easily. They had their choice of where to go, all of Rome and beyond.

"Yes," Shaw said, the throbbing in her arm finally beginning to dull. "It is."


End file.
